Knitted Bonds
by Crimson Rogue
Summary: Ori ponders over his place in the group and his relation to his quarrelsome elder brothers, all the while enjoying the company of their resident burglar.


Basically another attempt to fill a prompt I made on the kink meme, which I'll post the link too at the end of this note.

I wasn't originally going to write this now, as I wanted to get Alliance off the ground first and possibly flesh out the first chapter a bit more as I do more research, but after reading through the two guides I bought to help to those ends I couldn't wait any longer. The overwhelming power of Ori's cuteness forbade me from putting things off. That, and I figured it'd be a good exercise to get myself used to referencing said guides (The Hobbit: "An Unexpected Journey - Official Movie Guide", and "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey - Chronicles", respectively. The latter being the one that's being posted all over tumblr and that contains all the concept art. I highly recommend both, especially the latter, though I'd get them at a discount if possible.)

Anyways, sorry for the tangent. This basically just my attempt to play around with a potential relationship/friendship between Ori and Bilbo, as I feel they'd probably be the two that get along the most at the start of things - given their similar interests in the movie. You could see it through shipping goggles if you wish and turned your head dramatically to the side while squinting, but it's intended to be Gen. This also takes place in the movie verse, with little to no book-canon. It's not the best, and I might go back and revise it slightly later, but for now I'm slightly satisfied.

Prompt: . ?thread=5488705#t5488705

I really need to stop filling my own prompts, or at the very least keep them to myself and not post them anywhere before filling them. Oh well, onwards!

P.S. In accordance with my new methods, this is also up on AO3 under the name Nyaore.

* * *

"You coddle him too much, you old fusspot of a dwarf!" Nori bellowed across the clearing the company had taken to using for the night, taking no care to keep his voice checked as anger quickly overcame him.

"I'm merely looking after my younger brother and taking an active role in his life! Unlike someone I know who ran off the very moment his legs would allow him to outrun your Da, and only comes a calling when it provides tangible benefits!" A flustered Dori returned, the blood vessels in his face having long since progressed passed the point of bursting and were now flushing a rather unbecoming purplish color upon his cheeks. His fingers curled and twitched madly, as he kept his arms tightly pressed upwards against his body, as if barely restraining himself from inflicting bodily harm upon his younger sibling.

Ori couldn't stop himself from ducking his head and burrowing his nose in his cardigan as the argument continued to escalate, the action a hold over from his days as a toddler that he never quite outgrew in spite of his family's best efforts. His mind trying to focus on the rhythmic clacking of his knitting needles as the shouts began in earnest.

He should have known better than to expect his older brothers to get along in any particular fashion. They were as different as talc and corundum, as the miners in their group had so succinctly put it. They were both classified as minerals, Bofur had said, but their composition, hardness, and uses were almost night and day. While Ori couldn't claim to be particularly well verse in the world of ores and minerals, beyond a brief dabbling with various books that his master had had him transcribe copies of, he at least felt that the comparison could be considered apt to a layman like himself. Though even in his wildest imaginings, he couldn't quite picture two minerals arguing at each other until their faces were a distinct shade of cobalt. But then again, maybe he just wasn't trying hard enough. Either that or he simply had never gotten sloshed enough, but he digressed.

If it wasn't one thing it was another, for them. They argued about everything. If one liked the food they were given, inevitably the other would find something to fault in it. If another enjoyed the warmth of the sun on what they would describe as a particularly nice day, the other would readily announce that it was either far too warm or cold for their liking. Often times one had to wonder if they didn't argue simply for the sake of doing so, and carrying out some garbled routine in the hopes of pantomiming normalcy. Their bickering had become such a frequent occurrence now that they had to share each other's company, that others in their little group had taken to viewing it as a source of entertainment. Already he could see Fíli and Kíli watching the proceedings on the far side of camp from their position against a fallen tree log, shared whispers and grand hand gestures hinting towards the fact that they were already placing bets upon who would win this current bout, with many of the others lingering nearby ready to join in at the prospect of coin changing hands.

However, if there was one thing Nori and Dori would never bring themselves to agree upon, it was Ori himself.

Ori was an odd duckling of a dwarf, he would be the first to admit. While his looks were quite on the average side, his preferences and various other skills were not. Where as most dwarves took to either crafting, mining, or warmongering at a young age, he had quickly fond himself rather useless in those regards. The heat of the forge nauseated him far too much to make working near it a possibility, his mind too preoccupied with other concerns to manage himself safely in a mine shaft, and his clumsiness preventing him from ever learning how to wield more than his slingshot and short dirk in a fight. While he had never been made to feel particularly lesser for not taking to these aspects of dwarven culture by his immediate family, he was not ignorant of the whispers that followed in the wake of his inability.

So it was almost as if by divinge premonition that he one day stumbled upon his gift for the 'softer' arts, as Nori would put it, while helping his family with their shared business ventures. The first time he had put pen to paper, it was almost as if someone had struck two pieces of flint together, and he had been unable to look back since. Voraciously taking any job he could get that would allow him to work on his penmanship and have access to the finest books and stories his small settlement could offer. In fact it then came as no surprise, that the happiest day of Ori's life thus far, had been the day his master - one Tusin Silvertongue - had accepted him for apprenticeship on the eve of his fiftieth year.

However, as a result of never finding anything particularly interesting to manage his time with - aside from knitting with his mother - and the lack of friends his inability with normal dwarvish past-times had wrought, most of his family had taken to babying him. Dori being the worst offender, as a natural worrier even without his brother to think of. Nori, on the other hand, had never been overly concerned with coddling anyone, even his younger sibling - so wrapped up in himself and his next big score. It was unfair, he was willing to admit, but that lackadaisical attitude towards his initial ineptitude had been something of a soothing balm on Ori's pride growing up. As much as he adored Dori and his parents, their fussing had been smothering at the best of times, and confidence ruining at others. It was one of the reasons why, even now after he had found his true calling the world, that Ori had jumped at the opportunity to follow his kleptomaniac of an older brother on what his parents had initially considered a fool's errand - Dori only tagging along to keep him safe as he put it. The chance to truly prove himself was far too great to pass up now, and if he could show his parents and Dori that he didn't need their constant fussing then more the better.

Yet, all his rash choice seemed to have brought was a furthering rift between his two siblings. One vouching that he should be given freer reign, and the other unwilling to let go of his self-appointed task of protecting him.

What was worse was that the company saw him much in the way Dori did, only without the adoring gaze of an older sibling who simply wished to do right by his kin. The only things they seemed to appreciate about him was the fact that he was transcribing their tale for future generations, and the knitted scarves he occasionally made for them as he passed the time each day upon his pony. While it was all made in good jest, as Dori had tried to reassure him on evening, the rest had a habit of poking fun at him and his odd ways. If he preferred his cardigan to the gambeson the company had forced upon him, although it was a rather fetching shade of lavender, then that was no one's business but his own. Thank you very much, and please don't let the rug trip you on the way out.

It had gotten so aggravating, at this point, that he had taken to conducting his business at the edges of the company whenever the opportunity to rest was given. He had quickly learned that the further away from their attention he was, the less likely they were to bother him.

Then again, not everyone treated him oddly now that he considered it.

"Mind if I sit here?"

The young dwarf cast a shy smile as he looked up at their resident Hobbit as he stood in front of him with twin bowls of soup steaming away in his hands.

Wordlessly Ori patted the grassy knoll beside himself, and inched over a few centimeters to allow the Hobbit more room so he could sit comfortably. Bilbo sat down with a grateful grin, before passing one of the bowls of their supper to Ori who accepted it gratefully before diving into it. While he was generally too tired to do any arguing about what food was going into his stomach, but he still couldn't help but grin in triumph when he noticed the distinct lack of leafy greens in the body of the soup.

They passed the next few minutes in relative silence as they ate, the noise of the argument between Ori's brothers slowly teetering out until the two figures in the middle of it marched away from each other in a huff - pointedly ignoring the exchange of coins that went around the camp as the observers decided upon who had won the latest in a long stream of dual tirades. Ori couldn't help but be glad that neither of his brothers bothered to make their ways over to his location, both too absorbed in the still burning fury to pay much attention to the very person that had inspired the verbal sparring in the first place.

Once the soup was well and truly gone, and Ori had scrapped the bowl extensively to ensure that not a single drop had been left, they both set about relaxing for the rest of the evening. Bilbo getting up and leaving for a moment, dusting his faded trousers in a vain attempt to remove the excess dirt, before returning with his pack and pipe in both hands. The former he set down next to Ori and soon plopped down to recline against in a position facing the bonfire, while the latter he eventually lit to enjoy the last vestiges of pipeweed he had managed to bargain for at the settlement of Bree. Ori himself had picked up his knitting once more, and was calmly clacking away with his needles as he soaked in the good company. Even if the smell of the pipeweed made his nose itch ever so slightly.

Click, clack.

Click, clack.

Click, clack.

"What are you designing now?" Bilbo muttered good-heartedly, as he bit around the edges of the pipe, occasionally sending smoke rings into the air at random intervals.

You know, he hadn't really considered what he had been making, Ori realized with a slight start. Knitting had always had a calming affect on him, a holdover from the times he used to do it with his mother as a youngling, and at the onset of the newest spat between his brothers he had simply grabbed his needles, a random skein of yarn, set about a starting knot, and clacked away in hopes of ignoring the ongoing fuss that was being made across the camp. Little thought had been given to what he had been knitting, his fingers simply moving automatically as he tried to distract himself.

Looking down now, he saw in what might be the beginnings of a deep green glove or mitten, though the size he had managed was far too small for large dwarvish hands to fit inside. Still, might as well finish what he started, as it would do him no good to scrap it now.

He lifted the unfinished creation up for Bilbo's inspection, receiving a small smile and a nod in turn as Bilbo analyzed his work. "Are you going to add knotting to this one?"

While Bilbo showed no inclination to borrow Ori's spare set of needles on this night, the Hobbit had proven fairly knowledgeable about knitting, and had been steadily working on his own creation ever since the younger had offered to lend him his tools and a bit of yarn several weeks prior. While he was no where near as fast of a worker as Ori, he still showed a respectable amount of technique, so that the dwarf was more than willing to ask for his opinions if the need ever arose.

"You know, I'm not quite sure..." Ori mumbled shyly, turning the thought over in his head. Should he use more yarn to add in details, or leave them plain?

"Whatever the case, I'm sure they'll turn out quite well," his companion smiled around the lips of the pipe, leaning over to pat his shoulder before folding his arm back across his stomach.

"Do you..." Ori mumbled, "do you want them? When I'm done I mean...? They're far too small for my hands, and it'd be a shame to just leave them sitting in my pack for the rest of the journey... Not that I expect you to want them, I know my knitting isn't the best, always mixing my starting knots and weaves up, but if you..." he knew he shouldn't impose, but Bilbo was the only member of the company he had yet to knit anything for, oddly enough.

That simply would not do.

"Ori!" Bilbo laughed, "calm down. I'd very much enjoy them, actually. In my haste to catch up to the group while leaving Bag End, I'm afraid I left much in the way of essentials behind. We're in summer now, but I don't doubt that it won't be long before winter creeps up on us and, frankly, the idea of getting frostbite is not altogether pleasant." He turned and gave another warm friendly smile, wriggling his fingers about for emphasis. "You're quite a kind lad, you know that? Your yarn skeins have saved many of us from the bitter cold as of late, from what I can tell,"

The beaming smile he received could have chased away the growing night and lit the sun for weeks on end, though it was quickly overcame by a sudden sour look that Ori could not find it in himself to hide. Bilbo had been the first and only person to actually appreciate his work as of late. He never had an unkind word to say to him, and was almost always willing to stop whatever he was doing to entertain Ori in discussions about various odd topics - ranging from knitting to even elvish literature. Many of their hobbies intersecting as such that they could hold easy conversations, once Ori's initial shyness wore off. Dori and Nori had only been giving him passing looks of brotherly fondness whenever he offered someone one of his knitted creations, and the others only mumbling their thanks due to their perceived usefulness in keeping out the drafty air. He had little doubt that if he had offered to draw or write something for one of the others, outside of maybe a grand verse in the ongoing tale of this journey, that they would be as thankful - outside of the realms of customary politeness.

It wasn't as if he wanted to be lauded for making a few comforts, far from it. But was it too much to ask for a heartfelt thank you every once in awhile?

"Penny for your thoughts?" the Hobbit queried, casting a look of quiet worry at the displeasure that was openly showing on the young dwarf's face.

"It's nothing, Mister Baggins. Nothing at all," Ori waved him off with a forced smile - he would show them yet, "mind if get your measurements now? I want to make sure I can make adjustments." Taking the murmured agreement as encouragement to dig into his own pack and bring out one of the many pieces of measuring yarn he kept for just such occasions. He took the hand that Bilbo offered him and began to diligently measure the width of his fingers, the size of his hand, and even the length of the bone in his wrists. While the gloves might have started as a project to ease his mind from the bickering of his brothers, he'd be damned if he gave Mister Baggins anything less than his best work. To do so would fly in the of all the friendly encouragement he had been receiving since the Hobbit had joined them in the Shire. He knew Bilbo would be grateful regardless of what he was given, such was his nature, but that to spurred him to try and do things properly. His own pride as a craftsman and as a friend would not allow him to give Bilbo anything less than his best effort.

He had come on this journey for the sake of adventure and to follow his beloved brother, and while he adored Nori and even Dori - he reflected now that he might not have made it this far without Bilbo's quiet encouragement.

"There, all done!" He chattered excitedly as he pulled out a piece of charcoal from the box that he kept all his writing and artistic materials and began to mark the appropriate lengths down on a small rock near his feet. It wouldn't last long, with charcoal being the medium that is was, but it would do for now. If he worked fast enough, he wouldn't even have to worry about the smudges rubbing off once he set it into his little box, being able to finish long before it ever came to that. He immediately set to work once the measurements were noted, tuning out the rest of the world as he settled into his craft.

If there was one thing he appreciated about Mister Baggins, it was that they often did not have to carry on long conversations in order to feel comfortable in each other's company. So he had no feelings of guilt for turning out his friend then, to focus on his work. Bilbo himself seemed quite content to allow Ori his privacy as well, sitting back and blowing more smoke rings until his pipeweed was long spent, before laying out to watch the stars between the branches of the trees overhead.

He worked long into the night, long past the time Bilbo and his belongings had been pulled away by Fíli and Kíli to take up the first watch - and certainly long after his two brothers had staked out their positions on opposite sides of where he was sitting to get their own rest. Both having long grown used to the sound of his knitting, to the point where it was easy to fall into a deep slumbing in the midst of all the clicking and clacking. Though he did have the presence to note that both of his brothers were trying to stay as far away as possible from one another, while still staying within range to protect him should the need arise - Dori more so than Nori once again. It was almost smile worthy. Almost.

Finally after many long hours and watch changes, Bilbo coming up after his stint to calmly request he not stay up too late working on the project before turning in, he was finished. He could have spent hours adding more details, but then that was simply the case with everything that he made. As they were, the gloves were a lovely shade of dark green, with the raised weaves criss-crossing about on the tops, forming an angular sort of circle that was reminiscent of Bilbo's door back at Bag End. It was more of a personal embellishment than he had taken to adding to his creations as of late, knowing that such patterns would go unnoticed by most of the dwarves he traveled with, but he couldn't have stopped himself from adding them.

Now he just hoped that Bilbo liked them.

Hours later, as he helped pack his share of the gear onto their ponies for the day's trek, he couldn't help but feel nervous at the thought of presenting his gift. He had never given a gift to someone he could consider an actual friend before, most of his creations going to either family or his master back home. And that's precisely what Bilbo was, wasn't he? His friend. Possibly the first true one he could ever recall having, in spite of their age differences. The thought caused his lips to upturn slightly, as he ducked his head in embarrassment. Oh Mahal, he hoped that he liked them!

He needed have worried overly much, he realized distantly as he lightly tapped Bilbo's shoulder to get his attention when the rest of the company had their gazes turned. The thankful grin and hug he almost immediately received chased any of his anxieties away in a flash. It was still too warm for him to wear them on a regular basis, but after trying them on and then securely tucking the gloves into his belt loop - Bilbo assured him that they would definitely be appreciated and well used.

With a happy nod, Ori turned back to his preparations for the day, glad that his gift had been well received.

Not long after both Dori and Nori, still resolutely refusing to look at one another, slide up to him to help finish the rest of the packing and to apologize for any worry they might have caused the previous evening. "We're sorry about that whole affair, Ori. We hope that it didn't make you too uncomfortable?" Dori asked sadly, sharply elbowing Nori in the cut when a matching expression of regret wasn't immediately forthcoming.

In truth, he had forgotten all about it once he had set to working the night before. Still, he nodded gratefully to his two brothers - knowing that it was only through their sibling bond with him that the two were standing next to each other this morning with nary a bloodied lip. "Don't worry about it," he softened his eyes slightly before sliding up onto his pony, ready to begin the day.

Maybe if the road was smooth enough he could even borrow Balin's lecturn and start adding sketches into the logbook.

"What has you so happy?" Nori asked, though not unkindly. It was rather odd to see his usually withdrawn brother in any kind of good spirits following a fight such as the one that had taken place the night before.

Ori seemed to think for a moment, his eyes briefly darting towards where Bilbo was being hauled up onto his fussing pony by a laughing pair of Durin brothers. The Hobbit just couldn't seem to find his seat, and looked more than a bit harried when he finally managed to sit squarely in the saddle. With a nod Bilbo dismissed the laughing pair with as much dignity as he could muster, before reaching down to absentmindedly trace the pattern of on the gloves that were within his belt loop. His eyes tilting up momentarily before they caught Ori's, to which the both of them shared a small look.

"Nothing, nothing at all."


End file.
